


five times esmé squalor got what she wanted

by skatingsplits



Category: A Series of Unfortunate Events (TV), A Series of Unfortunate Events - Lemony Snicket
Genre: F/F, esmé is messy, everybody's favourite dysfunctional bisexual murderers, georgina is cynical, heavy sarcasm but light bondage, i don't know where this came from
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-02
Updated: 2018-05-02
Packaged: 2019-05-01 08:36:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14516532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skatingsplits/pseuds/skatingsplits
Summary: A commentary on the dangers and the rewards of stubbornness, pride and cynicism.





	five times esmé squalor got what she wanted

 

i. 

As you may or may not be aware, there are some people whose perception of the world around them is muddled and fragmented; often, these people are distracted by puzzles of morality and an obligation to do the right thing. However, there is another kind of person whom you may observe to have what is commonly known as a one-track mind. One-track mind is a phrase which here means ‘having focus on one particular object, person or course of action, whether to the detriment or benefit of oneself or other people'. For example, someone with an avaricious one-track mind might devote a lot of time and effort to the pursuit of an inheritance, to the detriment of themselves, their henchmen and a small gaggle of orphans. On the other hand, someone else might dedicate themselves entirely to learning everything there is to know about the inner ears of guinea pigs, to the benefit of cochlear biology research but possibly to the detriment of their social life. There is nothing fundamentally negative about having a one-track mind but (at least according to romantic comedy movies and newspaper advice columns), the combination of a one-track mind, a forceful personality and classical good looks is often a dangerous thing and people in possession of this combination can be dangerously difficult to say no to.

  
‘No. Absolutely not' Georgina Orwell hissed to her drinking companion as long, slim fingers grabbed her glass and filled it to the brim with a deceptively harmless-looking rum punch.

  
‘But Georgina, you're my guest; did your mother never tell you that it's terribly rude to refuse refreshment from your hostess?’ The brilliant white smile that accompanied this obviously rhetorical question was as dangerous as it was dazzling but Georgina wasn't phased.

  
‘I think that rule only applies if your hostess isn't trying to get you absolutely trashed, Esmé' she rolled her eyes as the hostess in question put her hand to her chest in a show of mock indignation ‘And I'd love to know exactly why you're so desperate to ply me with alcohol, none of your other guests are receiving quite the same attention.'

  
'None of my other guests are quite so much good company, of course' Esmé handed the tall glass back, her voice bright as she smiled at the guest in question 'and none of them were standing all alone looking sourer than my mother's lemon cheesecake'. Georgina had to restrain herself from rolling her eyes for what felt like the seventieth time that evening.

  
'Forgive me if your little shindig is falling short of scintillating, Mrs Squalor, but I happen to have a million things I'd rather be doing this evening' this wasn't strictly true but it wouldn't do to let Esmé know that her other option for this evening had been experimenting with hypnosis on a small collection of tortoises, Georgina thought. It wasn't her fault that all the associates she could bear to spend an evening with were all scattered around Esmé's new bridal home, in various states of formal dress and intoxication. A bejewelled Josephine Anwhistle was being swung around the dancefloor by Ernest Denouement so wildly that every other couple was giving them a wide berth, while Monty Montgomery was trying to teach the two youngest Snicket siblings the twist despite completely inappropriate musical accompaniment.

  
'Why are you here then, Georgina? Don't tell me it's because you consider yourself bound by social obligation because if that were the case, I think you'd have dressed up a little more' Esmé raised an impeccably plucked eyebrow as her eyes flickered up and down the optometrist's form. A lesser woman than Georgina would have blushed (and to a very discerning eye, there was perhaps a slight flush to the cheeks) under the obvious unfavourable judgement being passed on the navy-blue wrap dress she'd quite carefully selected for the party.

  
'Perhaps I simply wanted to see your husband's fabulous apartment' Georgina ignored the aspersions being cast on her outfit and raised her own eyebrows as she took a sip of the lethal concoction in her glass. 667 Dark Avenue truly was impressive, she admitted to herself as she glanced at her own reflection in one of the vast array of mirrors circling the walls of the ballroom. Jerome had certainly spared no expense in making sure his home was good enough for his infamously materialistic new wife; although, Georgia reflected uncharitably, she probably wouldn't have married him if he hadn't. She'd known Jerome Squalor for years and couldn't see that he had a thing to recommend him to a woman as..... unique as Esmé if he hadn't had a net worth equal to that of a small European principality.

  
' _My_ fabulous apartment. And do you like what you see, Doctor Orwell?' Esmé shifted slightly closer as she spoke and a flush she attributed to the warming properties of alcohol spread over Georgina's chest. This warmth increased in temperature by quite significant amounts as the city's recently declared thirteenth most important financial advisor dipped her little finger in Georgina's drink and lifted it to her mouth.

  
'Yes, you certainly have exquisite taste' Georgina deliberately kept her voice neutral ‘even this punch is quite delicious, though I'm not completely convinced you're actually old enough to be drinking it.’

  
‘I can assure you, Doctor Orwell, I'm legal for all sorts of activities' before Georgina could decide whether that had been meant to sound as suggestive as it did, Esmé had taken her glass from her, placed it on the drinks table and was pulling Georgina behind her with an imperious ‘come on!’  
As the pair slipped into the expansive corridor, Georgina wondered why exactly the younger woman was paying her so much attention. Not only was she a newlywed who, if societal norms were to be upheld, should have been doting over her new husband but surely she had her own friends at this party. Younger, more exciting people, who would actively participate in conversations about polka dots being in and paisley being out. She didn't have much time to dwell on it, however, before the click of Esmé's ridiculously high heels stopped in front of a large portrait of a face in profile, the eyes huge and distorted. Georgina frowned.

  
‘Is this what you wanted to show me? I know I'm an optometrist but it's not really necessary for you to give me a personal tour of all the eye-themed art in this disgustingly huge apartment'

  
‘No, don't be absurd' Esmé smiled indulgently as though she were a patient kindergarten teacher and Georgina was a particularly stupid four year-old ‘It just gives us a convenient excuse, should anyone wonder what we're doing out here'.

  
‘An excuse for wha- mmph’ Georgina's incredulous question was cut off by the swift descent of the other woman's mouth on hers and the firm pressure of a manicured hand on her lower back. Before she lost herself in the frankly delicious way Esmé was nibbling at her bottom lip, Georgina pulled back to give the blonde a look she hoped was piercing but she felt was probably coming off a little more 'rabbit in the headlights'.

  
'Excuse me, but are we or are we not at a party celebrating your extremely recent marriage?' Again, Georgina hoped her question came off as coolly ironic but couldn't help suspecting she actually sounded like a spinster schoolmarm.

  
'And your point is? Seems like an odd time to develop a sense of decorum, darling' Esmé's lipstick was slightly smudged around the edges but it didn't ruin the predatory effect when she grinned at Georgina, wagging a finger when the older woman looked set to raise an objection 'Uh uh uh, don't argue, a little bird told me all about your naughty little habits'. There wasn't time for Georgina to even pretend to be offended before she was being kissed again, hotter and harder this time as Esmé's nails scratched at her scalp and she heard herself groan at the contact. However, even Esmé Squalor had to pause for breath and when she did, Georgina held her by the shoulders to stop herself being overcome again.

  
'Not that I'm complaining,  _Mrs_ Squalor, but what exactly brought this on?' She gestured between them, her eyebrows raised 'Forgive me if I've missed something but I wasn't aware we were on quite such intimate terms'. Esmé had never been abashed in her life and she certainly wasn't going to start now. She shrugged.

  
'I was looking at you, and I realised I wanted to kiss you so I kissed you. I really hope that's not a problem' Esmé's always-immaculate nails traced over Georgina's clavicle as she tilted her head down to blink up at the brunette through her eyelashes. The gesture was an obviously calculated one but nonetheless, Georgina really hoped Esmé couldn't feel her pulse jumping in her neck.

  
'I see. And what do you think you might want now?' A tiny part of Georgina couldn't help but wonder if this was some sort of trap and, if so, why she'd walked into it with more speed and ease than a knife sinking into butter on a hot day. Actually, she thought, butter wasn't a bad metaphor; that was almost exactly what she felt like as Esmé's nails raked along her shoulder.

  
'I have quite a few ideas, actually, Doctor. And I feel I ought to warn you, I usually get what I want' the nails that had been tracing along her neck suddenly dug into her skin and Georgina had to bite her lip to prevent the escape of some highly undignified noises. The ache between her thighs overruled the little voice in the back of her mind reminding her how likely it was that the woman whose lipstick was now smeared over her own was at the very least using her and quite possibly planning to ship her to Argentina in a steamer trunk. After all, if it was a choice between spending the rest of the evening watching her associates getting steadily drunker while she got steadily more irritated or giving Esmé Squalor exactly what she claimed to want, she'd taken far greater risks for much smaller rewards. Besides, she reflected, it might be fun to see how desperate Esmé was. She'd always liked making people beg for mercy.

 

ii.

  
Georgina Orwell couldn't claim to be living the wildest of lives. True, she had plenty of friends, a hectic work schedule and a seemingly never-ending stream of costume parties to attend. However, long-standing membership in a secret organisation with a tendency towards opulence and intrigue had not given her a fondness for relinquishing her self-control. Opulence is a word which here means 'providing a lot more champagne per person than strictly necessary' and intrigue is a word which means 'ending up squashed in a small wooden chest in the drawing room of someone else's country house while two men in masks scour the surrounding area for your footprints'. She was not, therefore, particularly tolerant of other people's lapses in self-control.

  
‘Georgie!’ a very loud voice stirred Georgina from her light slumber, assisted by the loud knocking that accompanied it. ‘Georgina darling, I'm down here!’ Despite her better judgement, the doctor soon found herself stamping down the stairs, grumbling about needy, capricious blondes and the danger of giving them one's home address. She flung the door open, expecting the usual perfectly turned-out figure to which the demanding voice belonged; instead, the woman in question was bare footed, slingback stilettos hanging off her index finger, her striped skirt hitched up around her thighs and the matching jacket apparently having been discarded somewhere along the way. Esmé's lipstick had stained her mouth red and although pinning one's hair up was in, hers had come down in waves around her shoulders. Despite her obvious state of disarray, she smiled widely as the door opened and she flung her arms around the slightly cross woman standing on the other side.

  
‘You heard me! I thought I was going to have to shimmy up the chimney and sneak my way into your bedroom' Georgina rolled her eyes so hard she was in danger of straining them as she noted the thickness of Esmé's voice and the very faint aroma of gin.

  
‘I think you mean drainpipe, Esmé. And believe me, there was no danger of me not hearing you' Georgina stood aside with a sigh of resignation, allowing her drunken visitor to totter up the front step and into the hallway, throwing her shoes to the ground with a disregard for the hardwood flooring that Georgina pretended didn't bother her.

  
‘Darling, you don't seem terribly pleased to see me. I thought I'd be a nice surprise for you' Esmé gestured to herself with a tiny giggle and Georgina couldn't help but be a little intrigued. She'd never seen Esmé actually drunk before; she could certainly be found with a drink in her hand almost constantly at social engagements but the woman normally seemed to have a hollow leg.

  
‘It's not that I'm not thrilled that you woke me up in the middle of the night, but to what exactly do I owe the pleasure of this surprise?’

  
‘I was in the neighbourhood?’ Esmé offered with what she clearly thought was a winning smile but Georgina just raised a sceptical eyebrow ‘Fine, I was having drinks with a horrid little gaggle of reporters from the Daily Punctuation... the Daily Portcullis... the newspaper; they're doing an article about me being named the city's eleventh most important financial advisor, you know, and I'm afraid I had to imbibe a little more than I usually would to possibly bear it'. This was not entirely credible; if Georgina knew one thing about Esmé Squalor, it was that she certainly didn't need intoxicating substances to find attention bearable, no matter who was bestowing it.

  
'And the bright idea of coming to see me?' Georgina put her hands on Esmé's shoulders in an attempt to keep the other woman upright. The silky fabric under her fingers was tantalising and Georgina had to admonish herself for no longer being even slightly irritated by Esmé's imposition. You're getting soft, she thought, soft for this inherently manipulative woman who's less trustworthy than one of Montgomery's snakes.

  
'Well darling, why would I not want to come and see you? I was heading home and then I thought, why on earth am I going home to a cold bed and an empty house when I know somewhere I could be having much more fun' Georgina was about to query whether an apartment full of servants and at least one bed containing a doting husband could really qualify one for loneliness when her visitor moved towards her, grabbing her around the waist as she did so. It was unclear whether the gesture was born of affection or the current inability of Esmé's legs to support the rest of her body.

  
'I hate to be blunt' Georgina began as the younger woman sidled even closer to her and began playing with her hair with a fascinated expression 'But frankly, you're in a worse state than a pair of eyeglasses dropped from the penthouse of a very fancy hotel. If you can bear to tear yourself away from me, I'll order you a taxi.' Esmé pouted.

  
'But darling, why? Can't I stay here? I promise I'm an excellent guest, Georgie, I'll make you breakfast' beyond the idea of Esmé being able to cook being completely ridiculous, Georgina was taken aback. Her personal relationship with Esmé Squalor so far had consisted of several undeniably enjoyable but largely hurried and frantic trysts in bathrooms, walk-in wardrobes and one particularly memorable ship's brig. The last time they'd seen each other, Georgina had had Esmé sprawled over a marble counter, the blonde becoming increasingly incoherent as Georgina fucked her until she was hoarse in front of an immense gilt-framed mirror. These encounters were undoubtedly the most fun Georgina had had in a depressingly long time but nothing about them had given her the slightest inclination that Esmé would want to spend any time with her that didn't involve at least one them ending up with a scratched-up back and trembling legs.

  
'As tempting as sampling your culinary skills sounds, I'm not convinced that's a great idea' Georgina took Esmé's hand in an attempt to untangle it from her brown bob, rubbing her thumb against the underside of her wrist.

  
‘Well, darling, you know you can eat whatever you want’ Esmé purred, slipping her hand from Georgina's to rest it on the brunette’s hip. The hungry look in her eye was more than appealing but Georgina shook her head in amused exasperation.

  
‘Even more tempting but I really think you'd be more comfortable at home' truth be told, Georgina was the one who wasn't entirely comfortable. She liked Esmé and she liked fucking her even more but she preferred to keep her home her own, separate from the intrigues and machinations of her associates. Overnight guests were infrequent and usually bundled out of the front door faster than you could say ‘inhospitable’- there was something about letting people into the space she'd so clearly defined as her own that set her teeth on edge. Although if there were anything that could change her mind, Georgina imagined it would be the glint in Esmé's eye as the taller woman bent her head to begin what could only be described as an onslaught on Georgina's neck.

  
‘Georgina...’ Esmé murmured plaintively ‘Don't make me beg, it's the one thing I'm not very good at.’ She nipped at the base of Georgina’s collarbone, obviously determined to win her over.

  
‘Well, I can't imagine you've had a lot of practice’ Georgina said, lifting Esmé's chin so she could examine the slightly glassy-eyed face. Yet again, she internally reprimanded herself for being so utterly weak-willed even as the words left her mouth of their own accord:  
‘Oh, fine, if you really insist. Although I hope you're aware that absolutely nothing of mine will fit you’ she managed to detach herself from Esmé's arms to look her up and down. Georgina was at least three inches shorter, even when Esmé had discarded her heels. The image of Esmé in one of Georgina's nightdresses, material only barely covering her thighs, came into her mind unbidden and she crooked a finger, beckoning Esmé to follow her up the stairs.

  
‘Funnily enough, I don't think that's going to be a problem' the city's recently-declared eleventh most important financial advisor’s laugh was frankly filthy and not a little triumphant as she gripped onto the optometrist's waist to steady herself instead of the bannister and Georgina wondered (not for the first time since meeting Esmé) what exactly she was letting herself in for.

 

iii.

 

It wasn't very often that Esmé Squalor truly enjoyed spending time with other people. More often than not, they were too irritating, too restrictive or drew too much of the attention that should have been on her. In fact, she could only think of a handful of people whose company she could endure for more than half an hour and even fewer whom she would choose to spend time with outside of the bedroom. Her husband, although bearable, was for too acquiescent for her to truly take pleasure in his company, conjugally or otherwise. Her colleagues in the financial district were terribly boring, so obsessed with rules and laws and "Esmé, that money doesn't belong to you!". She'd given up acting when she got married, and hardly saw any of her old friends from Miss Havisham's Finishing School for Scheming Girls anymore. There was, however, one particular person whose company she never failed to find stimulating.

  
'Esmé, I would love it if you, for once, told me where the fuck we were going’ Georgina said dryly as she was dragged down the streets of the city by a taller figure tottering along in shoes that were completely inappropriate for the activity.

  
‘Well, I would, darling, but I'm fairly sure that if I told you, you wouldn't want to come’ Esmé shrugged as though this was the most logical response in the world. Georgina threw her hands in the air in exasperation but it didn't stop her from following her companion along the street or giving the arm that was slipped into hers a squeeze. She was just beginning to wonder whether this was in fact an elaborate plot to tire her out, have her body bundled in the trunk of one of Esmé's endless supply of limousines and dumped in the nearest canal when the clatter of Esmé's heels suddenly stopped.

  
'I know you don't have an affinity for practical jokes, Esmé, but this had better be one' Georgina folded her arms, giving Esmé a look so withering it could have killed several plants and any small mammals that happened to find themselves in the vicinity. Esmé merely smiled, nodding towards the door of a building that was proudly displaying the lettering 'Gratuitous Jewellery'.

  
'Why on earth would you think that? Come on, darling, you promised that today we could do whatever I want. After all, you got exactly what you wanted last night' Esmé's hand slipped round to caress Georgina's waist, not quite as subtly as she imagined.

  
'Mmm, and please don't pretend you weren't desperate to give it to me' Georgina looked into her companion's face with what could only be described as a smirk. 'Fine, a deal is a deal and I wouldn't want rumours getting around that my word couldn't be counted on, would I?’ She briskly gestured towards the glass door, allowing the city's ninth most important financial advisor and undoubtedly most expert shopper to lead the way.

  
Esmé opened the door with practiced ease, deigning to give a benevolent nod to the fluttering salespeople who obviously knew the possibility of an excellent commission when they saw it. Most of Georgina's jewellery had previously belonged to her mother and only come into her possession after that terribly tragic accident on the ski slope. Spending hours pouring over glass cabinets had never exactly appealed to her, although she had to admit the magpie-esque glint in Esmé's eye was almost making the excursion worthwhile. It was also incredibly interesting to note that the little hum of satisfaction Esmé gave when she saw a piece she particularly liked was very similar to the noise she made when Georgina kissed a certain spot at the base of her throat. She was lost in these reflections when she realised that Esmé's searching eye had focused in on something in particular. The item in question was three large pear-shaped diamonds set in silver and looped onto a silver chain. It had obviously inspired the ravenous look in Esmé's eye that Georgina knew all too well, and she watched the blonde's blatant appreciation in amusement until those glittering eyes met hers.

  
'Buy me it.' If she were less skilled at making her face display exactly what she wanted it to, Georgina would have looked surprised. A jewellery heist, she could understand; the fun of studying the blueprints, disabling security systems, admiring one's own reflection in a catsuit. But walking into a jewellery store and buying a necklace for her... whatever Esmé was? The optometrist's eyes narrowed. Esmé certainly didn't need Georgina to buy her anything when the combined wealth of her and her husband could have cleared the debt of an entire country. She opened her mouth to say as much when a thought occurred to her and she changed tactic.

  
'Materialistic little tart' Georgina said in a low voice and Esmé's eyes flashed with a very similar expression to the one that had been induced by the sight of the necklace.

  
'That's right, darling' Esmé murmured, her arm reaching out to wind around Georgina's waist. This, Georgina thought, could be fun. 'Georgina, isn't it pretty? Don't you think it would suit me?'

  
'Sweetheart, this fishing for compliments is blatant even for you. But yes, it's very pretty...' If Esmé was going to turn Georgina's mind to a rather inappropriate place for public consumption, two could play at that game. 'How badly do you want it?'

  
'Oh Georgie, desperately' Georgina bit back a comment about that not being the first time in the last twenty-four hours Esmé had desperately wanted Georgina to give her something and instead brushed her hand against the other woman's hip as she reached for her purse. If Esmé wanted to test her, see exactly what Georgina would do for her if she was asked, she was happy to play along. It was immensely entertaining to see how quickly Esmé's eyes lit up at the prospect of a pretty toy; it seemed to Georgina that when she had what she wanted, she was as happy as a cat with a canary in its claws until the next (literally or figuratively) shiny object caught her eye. Hypnosis had never been the only human experimentation in which Georgina was interested. Not only that, she thought as she counted out bills and felt the hand on her waist tighten its grip, but there was something utterly thrilling about the way that Esmé was so blatantly hot and bothered. As she waved the fluttering salesgirl away and reached for the silver chain, Georgina couldn't suppress a familiar ache between her thighs that was only exacerbated by Esmé's tiny moan when Georgina put the cold metal round her neck.

  
‘Happy now?’ she murmured, bending her head to place the most fleeting of kisses next to her gift.

  
‘You've no idea' Esmé was practically wriggling and Georgina couldn't resist sliding her hand up the inside of a silky thigh to brush her thumb against the even silkier fabric of Esmé's ridiculously expensive underwear.

  
‘Oh, I really think I do’ Georgina breathed ‘I cannot believe how wet you are, sweetheart, Christ. If I'd known this was all it took to get you going, I'd have had a much more vested interest in shopping trips’ she removed her hand to snap the jewellery box shut and stuff it into her purse, smirk painted widely on her face. She made towards the door, completely ignoring the wide eyes of the sales assistant. Esmé was uncharacteristically speechless as she followed her out of the store and Georgina reflected that the benefits of giving into Esmé seemed to be practically limitless.

 

iv.

  
The relationship between Esmé Squalor and Georgina Orwell was complex, erratic and hedonistic, all of which are words which here mean ‘largely centred around judging each other's fashion choices, stealing each other's personal possessions and trying to get each other off in public places'. There are many other adjectives which could be used to describe the relationship between Esmé Squalor and Georgina Orwell but a word that would not be an accurate descriptor is ‘domestic'.

  
‘You know, when you mentioned “an evening at home", this wasn't quite what I was picturing' Georgina wasn't sure what she had been picturing; images of a breathless Esmé tied to the bedpost, black silk in shreds on the floor, teeth sinking into soft flesh all rapidly flashed through her mind. But whatever her expectations, they had certainly not involved lounging on a plush couch in one of 667 Dark Avenue's eighteen living rooms as the city's seventh most important financial advisor sat cross-legged on the floor, carefully examining the contents of a leather case which was large enough to hold a very small elephant or a very large chinchilla but was actually full of a vast assortment of nail polishes.

  
'No?' Esmé glanced up in amusement at her guest, before turning back to the obviously more important task of selecting a nail colour 'I know you aren't overburdened with girlfriends, darling, but I'd have thought even you would know this is precisely what girls do when they have sleepovers’

  
'Those in glass houses shouldn't throw stones’ Georgina retorted sharply ‘If you have a surfeit of female friends, you keep them very well hidden'.

  
'Well, of course I do, Georgie; I know how horribly jealous you get. Now, get down here and behave yourself for five minutes’ Esmé lifted a glass bottle filled with a burgundy polish and brandished it triumphantly at Georgina.

  
'I thought that was my line' Georgina raised an eyebrow at her would-be manicurist but dropped herself down to the floor anyway.

  
'You know, darling, I love it when you sink to my level' with a suggestive smile, Esmé grabbed Georgina's hand and bent her head to begin the task she'd assigned herself. The thought had never been verbalised but she'd always found something incredibly attractive about the hands she was currently beautifying. She wasn't sure whether it was because of their multitude of capabilities- the way they yielded that deliciously sturdy cane, their commanding properties when Georgina was trying to be strict, how completely blissful they made her feel when Georgina decided to be generous- or just the aesthetic appeal of the creamy skin and wonderfully uniform creases. They looked even better when Georgina let her tidy them up a little, she thought as she brushed colour down the centre of Georgina's left thumb, unable to stop herself picturing a burgundy-tipped digit sliding inside of her and a flush coming to her face that she was very grateful to her hair for hiding.

  
'Yes, you've made that  _perfectly_ clear in the past. You know, you're not a bad little manicurist, Esmé. Perhaps when your dolt of a husband finds out you've been screwing around on him and siphoning funds from every single one of his accounts for the entirety of your marriage, you could take it up as a profession.' Esmé narrowed her eyes, pinching the flesh at the base of Georgina's thumb in retaliation.

  
'Actually, I used to do it for all the girls at school in exchange for borrowing their clothes, alibis for Saturday nights, access to offshore accounts, you know'

  
'That's my little opportunist' the edge of admiration in Georgina's voice was nothing short of thrilling and Esmé hummed in pleased agreement.

  
'Mm, that's right, darling' she leant back to survey her handiwork, noting as she did so how appealing she found the soft curve of Georgina's forearm as the older woman stretched out her hands. 'There, doesn't that look gorgeous?' Georgina made a dismissive noise and glanced at her freshly lacquered hands for a mere moment before reaching them out in an attempt to pull Esmé closer to her.

  
'Ah ah ah! If you dare ruin my hard work, I shall be very cross so you can keep your hands to yourself' Esmé ordered, her smile stretched from corner to corner of her face as she lightly tapped Georgina on the wrist in reproof. Georgina's face was a picture of barely concealed irritation but she made an exaggerated motion out of elevating her hands in the air, far removed from any possible accusation of touching.

  
'It appears your recreational options are rather limited for the time being’ Georgina hadn't thought it was humanly possible for Esmé's smile to become any more self-satisfied but as she took advantage of her victim's immobility to slide one arm round the doctor's waist and let the other rest on her thigh, it undoubtedly did. ‘Stay still while they dry, darling, won't you? I like having you exactly where I want you' Esmé purred, seemingly entranced by the smooth skin of Georgina's leg where it met the fabric of her skirt.

  
'You teasing little slut' Georgina said in a low voice that according to past experience rarely failed to get Esmé instantly riled up. This time, however, she just smiled.

  
'And don't you forget it.' Her fingers danced along the outside of Georgina's thigh, coming to rest on her hipbone where she let them rest far too lightly for Georgina to possibly relax as she leaned in and blew on Georgina's nails. About as effective as a chocolate teapot but, she supposed, that hadn't been entirely the point.

  
‘Perhaps while I'm.... incapacitated, you could explain to me exactly what else girls do at a sleepover?’ Georgina said sweetly. One of the biggest advantages of sleeping with Esmé was how incredibly easy to please she was if one catered to her whims. Her thought process proved correct when Esmé beamed and pressed a kiss to her collarbone.

  
‘Well darling, we really have so many options. The traditional activities usually include pillow fights, delicious gossip...’ Esmé's fingers seemed to have claimed Georgina’s thigh as their own personal playground, as they snaked under the fabric of her skirt to stroke the soft flesh there ‘When I was younger, we used to play a lovely little game called trading hostages’. Georgina laughed.  
‘And what exactly does that entail, my lovely sociopath?’

  
‘You tell me a secret, I tell you a secret. There's  _nothing_ more scintillating than the possibility of mutually assured destruction' the hand on Georgina’s waist began to drift upwards and she would gave been very surprised if Esmé couldn't hear the thrum of her heartbeat.

  
‘I suddenly find myself wishing I'd been in your boarding school dormitory, Esmé. Although I'm fairly sure that would have led to a fairly early expulsion for the both of us’ Georgina’s own school years would have been immeasurably improved by anyone even remotely as exciting as Esmé.

  
‘Darling, you're forgetting that you're old enough to have been my teacher, not my classmate. Not that that couldn't have been _heaps_ of fun too’ the combination of this scintillating idea and the scratch of sharp nails on her thigh made Georgina very grateful she was already sitting down.

  
‘Regardless- and don't think that image isn't  _ingrained_ into my brain now- I'm sure you were as gloriously twisted as a schoolgirl as you are now’ the certainty that Georgina's nails were already dry didn't stop Esmé from keeping her locked in place, mock innocence playing across her face. It wasn't very often that she found herself in control of Georgina (entirely of her own volition) and she couldn't pretend it wasn't thrilling.

  
‘Twisted? I'm sure I don't know what you mean’ sharp claws dug into the soft flesh of Georgina's thigh and Esmé’s lips brushed over her collarbone. ‘You're the one who's been busy corrupting a woman ten years your junior, a woman married to one of your cherished associates no less’

  
‘I don't know where you get off pretending I had the slightest influence in corrupting you, Esmé, you were rotten to the core before I ever laid eyes on you' Georgina said in a low voice and Esmé was unable to fully articulate even to herself how incredibly perfect it was that she'd found someone who said those words not as a condemnation, but a veneration.

  
‘I think you know exactly where I get off, darling' Georgina rolled her eyes at the weak pun but decided to risk an attempt to brush her own hand over Esmé's thigh. Quick as a flash, a taloned hand batted hers away.

  
‘I don't believe I said that you could touch, Georgina’ it was one of the greatest pleasures of Esmé's life to see exactly how far Georgina would bear being pushed and then pushing just a little farther. If the look on her face was an accurate barometer, the optometrist was not at breaking point yet.

  
‘Funny, I remember words being said to the effect of all this being completely mine to touch whenever I liked’ despite her apparent lack of control over the situation, Georgina's voice was as cool and collected as ever, a fact which Esmé was determined to change.

  
‘Yes, I did say that, didn't I? Oh darling, you should know better than anyone that words said in flagranté can't be held against one at a later date. Or do you mean all those lovely little endearments that trip off your tongue when I've got my face buried in your cunt?’ Georgina scoffed and reached for Esmé's thigh again, this time finding her wrist was caught in a surprisingly bruising grip before she could make contact. ‘Angel, sweetheart, oh Christ you're perfect- it's endlessly amusing to me how affectionate you get when you need to come, darling'.

  
It was taking a Herculean effort for Georgina to pretend that the vice-like clasp on her wrist wasn't sending shockwaves through her body and she felt sure that her eyes must have been practically black by now. Esmé's taunting was the icing on the cake and she took a deep breath.

  
‘Esmé, if you don't let me go very, very soon, I'm going to be forced to do something drastic'

  
‘Oh? I'd love to know exactly what that would be, Georgina, but I'm afraid that I quite like you like this’ the arm around Georgina's waist slipped out from its perch and took tight hold of the other freshly-varnished hand. ‘You're absolutely gorgeous when you're on edge, darling'

  
Georgina was about to make a quip about not being nearly as close to the edge as she'd have liked when she suddenly found her lap was full of blonde financial advisor and her hands were being pinned back against the sofa. The strength of Esmé's forearms was somewhat surprising and not a little attractive, Georgina thought to herself as she tried in vain to tug her hands free.  
‘No, no, no; you don't get away that easily, darling. You really want me to let you go?’

  
‘Yes' Georgina said, and it was only half a lie.

  
‘Then say please, Georgina. It's really very simple, darling, elementary etiquette’ Esmé’s hips rocked forward against Georgina's as she bared her teeth in a smile that could only be described as predatory. Georgina looked up at her captor and smiled too, a smile that conveyed to Esmé that she was not the only one who knew how to push buttons. Submission had never been her cup of wormwood tea but she supposed that if she were going to let anyone tell her what to do, there was no better candidate than the woman currently straddling her thighs. **Not that I seem to have much choice in the matter** , she thought, though she had no intention of letting the city's eighth most important financial advisor know that she was finding it difficult to get out of her grip.

Nevertheless, she was seriously contemplating her best manoeuvre to flip Esmé over and make her very sorry she'd ever attempted this exercise in domination. She was given pause, however, by the intense glimmer in those black eyes; it was evident exactly what effect this role reversal was having on Esmé. Georgina had always been a practically-minded woman and was able to appreciate that the pros of doing what Esmé so blatantly wanted her to do were far outweighing  the cons. Particularly as the pressure between her legs was making it somewhat difficult to think straight.

  
‘Please, then, you debauched little harlot’ she hissed, not quite willing to relinquish herself entirely. Fortunately for her, Esmé seemed to deem her response satisfactory as after a moment studying the expression on Georgina’s face, she released the delicate wrists from her firm hold. Georgina hadn't decided whether she was going to thank or admonish the devious witch when she suddenly found neither option was available to her; Esmé’s mouth had descended on her neck and rendered her completely short of breath, an effect not diminished by her realisation that Esmé's now unoccupied hands were unzipping Georgina's skirt.

It was, she reflected, yet another piece of evidence to support her hypothesis that pleasing Esmé was a direct route to one's own pleasure. My favourite kind of research, she thought, vaguely wondering if there was some sort of experiment she could carry out about the correlation between the bruising on her wrists and the way her legs were trembling in a completely undignified manner. After all, she'd always been willing to dedicate herself to science.

 

 

v. 

  
If you've ever been in a relationship of any kind with another human being (assuming that everyone reading this is a human being and not a particularly intelligent guinea pig or other small mammal), you will know that when you are in a relationship, you becomes aware of the other person’s preferences, peccadilloes and petty grievances. For example, Georgina Orwell was aware that Esmé Squalor was holding a dubiously-motivated but very vicious grudge against several of her senior colleagues in the financial district that had inspired several rage-filled monologues in front of a mirror while Georgina sat at her desk examining optical charts. Similarly, Esmé was fully cognizant of the fact that when Georgina had her glasses resting on the top of her head and her a certain kind of frown on her face, she was busy and didn't want to be disturbed by comments on the new style of heeled espadrilles or how to get blood out of puckered silk (this didn't mean Esmé didn't employ her best distraction techniques and frequently wind up on Georgina's lap, removing her spectacles to a safe distance and really ensuring she was busy). Georgina knew that even though Esmé claimed to only enjoy partaking of food that was in at any particular moment, she would never say no to the honeycomb Georgina ordered in from the Hinterlands- never mind how undignified it might be to consume. Esmé relished knowing that after a difficult day, Georgina liked nothing more than having a stiff gin and a barely-clothed mercenary waiting when she got home. Georgina not-so-secretly delighted in being able to have Esmé squirming and breathless in a matter of seconds by murmuring a few well-chosen phrases in her ear. Esmé took full and frequent advantage of the knowledge that biting a little to the left of Georgina's right knee would elicit a stirringly delicious noise that Esmé thought about quite frequently when she was alone. It is little pieces of information like this that allow one to fully understand and appreciate the people with whom one is in a relationship. Or, if you are a certain kind of person, to manipulate and exploit the people with whom one is in a relationship.

  
‘Yes, darling, oh, perfect, god, that's perfect, just right there, perfect' one thing that could be said for certain about Esmé Squalor was that she enjoyed the sound of her own voice. Whether at business meetings, department stores, exotic pet auctions or in her own bedroom, she talked almost incessantly unless something even more interesting (a very rare occurrence) managed to distract her.

  
‘You're really very needy, aren't you?’ Georgina's voice was dry, faintly amused; certainly not the voice of a completely naked woman with two of her fingers roughly plunging in and out of another equally naked woman.

  
‘Georgie, stop fucking teasing, I can't... you have to... Oh fuck, yes, there. That feels so fucking gorgeous, you have _no_ idea, Georgina’

  
‘Believe me, sweetheart, you're making it excessively clear to me’ Georgina couldn't deny that Esmé’s litany of praises and demands were extremely gratifying but they exemplified exactly the younger woman's tendency to top from the bottom, a phrase which here means ‘attempt to control a situation despite ostensibly being the one in a subservient position"'. She tightened her unoccupied hand on Esmé's hip, the nail of her thumb digging a groove into soft pale skin. Esmé's moan was unmistakably ragged, and even more gratifying than her incessant commentary; **kinky little bitch** , Georgina thought and, after barely a second's hesitation, said. Unsurprisingly, this elicited an even louder, completely illegible noise from the blonde woman beside her and Georgina couldn't help laughing.

  
‘Georgina, faster, now, fuck me, I need it- oh you fucking bitch' there was no word more suitable than “snarl" to describe the expression on Esmé's face as Georgina removed her hand from the centre of Esmé's thighs and raised a wry eyebrow at her.

  
‘I think you need to be a little nicer to me if you plan on getting what you want this evening' she said, her face neutral as she popped the index and middle finger of her right hand into her mouth. Esmé groaned, sitting up and sliding her hand up Georgina's side to rest at the base of her neck.

  
‘That would be so much easier if you weren't so fucking fond of driving me to absolute distraction, darling' Georgina slid her digits out of her mouth and kissed Esmé hard. The blonde instantly grabbed a handful of brown hair, bringing her body tight against Georgina's. Esmé's complete and utter lack of either shame or propriety really was advantageous, Georgina reflected and her face was a picture of self-satisfaction as she pulled away.

  
‘And it would be so much more difficult to tease you if you weren't such a fucking insatiable degenerate, Esmé. But as it Is, it's just so easy' she looked at Esmé, her mouth set in a smile that had made several people throughout the course of her life take one look and decide to legally change their names and get serious plastic surgery. ‘I mean, it's so easy to make you come that, honestly, not making you come is more of a challenge. And you know how I feel about a challenge.

  
‘I really hope you get sent to an indescribably awful prison when they convict you for my _murder_ ’ Esmé was grinding against Georgina's thigh, barely even aware of her own movements. ‘Although you'd probably just fuck your way out of any trouble'.

  
‘You're overestimating my abilities. However, _darling_ , if you don't behave yourself, stop talking and let me do exactly what I want to you, you might be closer to death than you think.’ Georgina pushed Esmé backwards by the shoulders so the younger woman was once again lying down. ‘I think it's time for you to learn that you don't just get what you want whenever you want it, you spoilt brat. You have to earn it, Esmé, and nothing I've seen so far this evening has convinced me that you have.’ Esmé's shuddering breath as her legs automatically parted at the touch of Georgina's hand on her thigh was doing wonders for Georgina's ego.

  
‘Georgina...’ Esmé was so desperate to be touched she thought her body might be shutting down completely. Georgina's proclivity for control was simultaneously a source of endless delight and extreme frustration to her at the best of times and right now both emotions had her on the verge of screaming. ‘You're going to kill me if you don't fuck me now, darling, I mean it’

  
‘But what a way to go?’ Georgina offered with a deadpan expression, her fingers still only gently caressing the bare thigh beneath them ‘I'm sure I remember telling you to stop talking, did I not? You know, it amazes me that you're unable to follow even the simplest of instructions, Esmé. How do you manage at work, or is that pretty face enough to get by?’ Esmé scowled, on the verge of making a sharp retort when one of Georgina's fingers ghosted over her slit and she collapsed back onto the bed. Nails digging into her own palm, she bit down hard on her lip to prevent the unintelligible stream of consciousness that was threatening to spill out of her mouth and undoubtedly take Georgina’s hand far away again.

  
‘Good girl' Georgina said smoothly, noting to herself without a modicum of surprise that Esmé's eyelashes fluttered at the praise and her knuckles were clenched so hard they'd turned white. ‘See what can happen when you just do as you told and aren't so dreadfully greedy?’ Esmé nodded, for once not daring to push Georgina to her limit.

Delayed gratification had never been a feature of any aspect of Esmé's life and she felt like every inch of her body had been set on fire. Her eyes were clamped shut as she tried to regulate her breathing but snapped open when she heard a drawer closing. She was on the verge of asking Georgina what on earth she was doing when a strong hand had taken hold of both of hers and forced them back behind her head, making it entirely clear exactly what Georgina was doing. As the whisper of silk closed in around her wrists and tied them to the wooden bedpost, she let out a moan so loud that it would have embarrassed her had she been remotely capable of feeling embarrassed. Silently thanking any higher power that would listen that this bedroom they'd tumbled into was one with a four-poster, she tugged gently against the scarf binding her wrists; just to test how tightly Georgina had tied it, she had no intention of actually trying to get herself free.

  
‘Maybe now it'll be a little easier for you to do as you're told’  
Esmé’s teeth were biting into her lower lip so hard that she was fairly certain they'd broken the skin. Her self-control was running ragged, and the amount of effort it was taking to follow Georgina's instructions left her only dimly aware that she'd started rubbing her thighs together to relieve some of the unbearable pressure building up between them. Georgina's hands running over her calves and the bottom of her thighs was a combination of pure bliss and dreadful torture; a combination which, had Esmé's mind not been entirely preoccupied, she might have noted as a rather perfect metaphor for their relationship as a whole. The doctor's hands were firm on her skin but not nearly as firm or as high as Esmé wanted them and she felt her pulse kick into overdrive as one slipped over the contours of her hip, the other tracing lady circles on her knee.

  
Suddenly, even these frustratingly delicate touches disappeared and Esmé was very sure that if her hands had been free, she'd have strangled Georgina out of sheer, maddening frustration. All such thoughts stopped, however, at a feather-light touch to her inner thigh, more tortuous than the most brutal whips and chains- and I should know, she thought as her internal monologue screamed at Georgina to just fucking touch her. There was a rustle of satin sheets and then a firmer touch to her thigh that was definitely lips, not fingertips, and Esmé could feel the muscle there twitch violently of its own accord. Her eyes flew open to meet the gaze of the optometrist and Georgina looked so pleased with herself that Esmé felt like she could come on the spot. Near-death experiences had featured more heavily in her life than was normal for a young financial advisor from a good background but she didn't think she'd ever been closer to just expiring on the spot than she was right then. Before she knew it, the brunette head struck forward and Esmé had never wanted to say ‘fuck’ so badly in her life. Georgina’s skills in this department were unparalleled and the thought occurred to Esmé to ask her exactly where she'd gotten the practise, quickly replaced in her mind by a much less coherent stream of need.

  
‘A little desperate, sweetheart?’ Georgina murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of Esmé's inner thigh. Esmé just glared at her and Georgina smirked. ‘You can speak.’

  
‘I couldn't possibly be less bothered' the obvious breathlessness in her voice proved her words false.

  
‘It's so sweet that you think you're good enough to lie to me’ Georgina's voice was softer than the sheets underneath her and Esmé could feel her legs starting to tremble ‘Really Esmé, as though anyone would believe you aren't desperate for it every hour of the day. Needy slut'.

  
Pride was one of the only core principles Esmé could lay any claim to but she could feel it tripping away from her with every moment Georgina wasn't giving her what she wanted. She felt ready to get on her knees and promise Georgina her undying servitude in exchange for an orgasm when, without warning, the older woman’s tongue traced a line over her entrance, teeth catching on her clit and Esmé really thought that with just a little more pressure she could have come right there. Unfortunately for her, Georgina could easily read the tension trembling in Esmé's thighs and drew back with a thoroughly malicious smile, lifting one of Esmé's legs over her shoulder as though she was settling in for a long haul.

  
Georgina’s touch was blissful after such an extended period of teasing but it it was too light, too irregular to get her anywhere near where she needed to be. Esmé wanted nothing more than to scratch grooves in Georgina's back so deep that she'd be feeling them every time she put on that damned white lab coat and her hands were straining against the silk wrapped around them.

  
‘Georgina’ she said, her voice cracking. She felt like every atom in her body had been replaced by pure want but Georgina just won't give. Instead, the doctor leant back with an appraising glance, somehow still commanding despite her smudged lipstick and slickened chin.

  
‘It amazes me that you still haven't learnt your lesson. You don't get anything if you don't ask nicely'

  
‘Please, darling, Jesus Christ, please’ Esmé was past caring, past pride, almost past being able to breathe. For a second she thought Georgina was going to pull away entirely but instead she buried herself into Esmé, invoking a choked moan that would have had Georgina concerned for her health if it hadn't aroused her so much. Wasting no time, Esmé instantly began to fuck herself on Georgina’s tongue, cursing whatever gods that happened to exist that the glorious sensation of being tied up came with the extreme downside of not being able to rub at her clit. Georgina was well aware of what she wanted, however, and only took a moment to appreciate the writhing of Esmé's hips before putting her free hand exactly where the blonde was praying for it to go.

  
The brunette couldn't pretend she wasn't enjoying herself immensely. Having the gorgeously headstrong woman completely at her mercy (and making so much noise that servants less well-trained than those at 667 Dark Avenue would have surely called in the homicide department) was intoxicating. There was no greater aphrodisiac than power, at least not according to Georgina Orwell, and having this power, being given this power over a woman who prided herself on never giving into anyone was sending her dizzy with arousal.

  
She worked with a renewed vigour until the younger woman let out a very familiar moan and Georgina was not surprised to feel Esmé's thighs trying to clamp together, exerting a pressure on her neck that made Georgina groan against Esmé's contracting muscles. The complete abandon with which Esmé was moaning put a truly triumphant smirk on her face as she eventually drew back to survey her handiwork.

  
‘See what happens when you just do as I say, sweetheart?’ she said, completely aware of how smug she sounded and not caring in the slightest. Esmé’s breathing was still erratic as she tried to prop herself up as best she could without the use of her arms.

  
‘Georgina, you're a manipulative, sadistic psychopath and if you don't come here and kiss me, I'll strangle you’ the optometrist laughed and placed a last kiss on the soft skin below her fingertips before she made her way back up to meet Esmé's mouth with her own, her hands working to undo the silken knot around the bedpost as she did. Esmé's hands slipped free and immediately dove into Georgina's hair, pulling her closer as though the younger woman was trying to devour her.

  
‘I assume that's your way of saying thank you' Georgina quipped as she eventually extracted herself from Esmé's embrace. The city’s sixth most important financial advisor rolled her eyes but couldn't stop a satisfied smile from settling on her lips.

  
‘Actually, I have a much, much better way of saying thank you in mind, darling’ she said and the rough edge in her voice just fanned the flame that was burning in Georgina's stomach. Raw wrists encircled her waist and she allowed herself to be manoeuvred exactly where Esmé wanted her.  
Some things never change.

 


End file.
